


life would suck without you

by rinpanna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol, Cooking, Cuddling, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Post-Time Skip, Rivals and Lovers, blink-and-you-miss-it angst, canon-typical idiocy, competitions, this fic is eighty percent banter, with an extra splash of my own self indulgent tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinpanna/pseuds/rinpanna
Summary: “Of course I said, yes!” Kageyama yells, hand flying up to karate chop Shouyou’s head.Shouyou yelps again, rubbing the top of his skull. “Well, good, because that’s 1,097 wins for me now!”Kageyama snaps back, “How does asking me out count as a win?!”He looks up snottily at Kageyama, nose tipped towards the sky. “Because I did it first and you didn’t at all therefore I win!”Kageyama frowns. “That’s not real logic.”5 times Hinata beats Kageyama + 1 time Kageyama flips it back around.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 84
Kudos: 394





	1. 1,097 vs 1,100

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to b a classic, short + cute 5 + 1 but it spiralled out of control and now no longer reads like one, but the concept is still relevant to the story. tl;dr- post time skip kagehina getting together + their ensuing shenanigans
> 
> translation notes:  
>  _kuso_ \- shit  
>  _ousama_ \- king
> 
> song is from p!nk’s [_true love_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6vsHF3E9NU) because if that ain't a kagehina song then idk what is
> 
> thanks for clicking; please enjoy my/their smitten foolishness!

When Bokuto’s spike hits the court, sealing the Black Jackals’s first win of the season, a grin unwittingly breaks across Shouyou’s face—his final of many throughout the game. 

The crowd cheers, louder than he’s heard since his third year at the Spring High, but it’s background noise compared to the buzzing in his mind. His first official match back in Japan. His first face off against Kageyama since ninth grade. His hard work, his journey from Karasuno to Brazil and into the V League, driven by the desire—no, _expectation_ —for this moment. 

The promise he made Kageyama in middle school, finally fulfilled. 

His smile widens, sealing his eyes shut, pure joy threatening to overtake his entire being. 

Kageyama’s probably in the same boat, though—the setter’s generally stoic facade completely split apart with more genuine smiles than Shouyou’s ever seen him manage in such a short period of time. Shouyou squints his eyes open, and Kageyama’s beaming face greets him, all consuming. 

After a minute of teamwide celebration—with Atsumu high touching both of his hands, Sakusa lightly bumping his fist, and Bokuto trying (and failing) to lift him in the air like Simba in T _he Lion King_ —everyone lines up at the front of the net to shake hands with the Adlers. Upon shaking hands with Ushijima, Romero, Hoshiumi, there was an unspoken conversation:

 _"You've won today, Hinata Shouyou. But prepare yourself—next time won’t be the same_.”

_“I’ll be waiting.”_

As he’s playfully grinning back at Hoshiumi, a light jab to his stomach turns his attention forward. 

There, Kageyama stands, expression unreadable. Shouyou’s face threatens to break into another grin at the sight of his rival, but he schools himself—for now. Kageyama’s eyebrows are knit in just the shallowest furrow, his lips pulled slightly taut—a subtle tell that exposes when he has something he wants to say. 

Finally, Kageyama breaks their staredown. “You made it.” His neutral veneer breaks: cracking slightly through the mild, upward tilt of his lips, completely decimated by the smile in his voice.

Shouyou grins back fiercely. “Yeah. I’m here now."

There’s more to say on the topic and they both know it, but for now, Shouyou takes Kageyama’s hand in his—the shape and placement of his calluses so familiar even years later, his pulse quickens—and gives it a squeeze. Vigorously, Kageyama returns the gesture. 

“That’s 1,096 wins for me... and 1,100 losses,” Shouyou declares.

The fact that his number of wins is less than Kageyama’s niggles at the back of his mind. But he’ll focus on the positive—today’s victory was no small feat. 

And besides, there will always be more chances to beat Kageyama, after all.

***

The post-game whirlwind of activities begins and ends as quickly as Shouyou can process them. One moment, he’s signing Rubens’ volleyball; the next, Kenma’s boyfriend is on his ass about some kind of money making scheme. He sees Kageyama only in flashes (was that Kunimi and Kindaichi?) until all his Karasuno classmates gather at the edge of the court near the door.

Tsukishima flashes Kageyama a shit eating grin on sight. “So, King, beaten by a soldier of your very own making. How’s your pride feeling? Do you need someone to kiss it better?”

“Shut up, bastard!” Kageyama retaliates, teeth bared. Yachi and Yamaguchi giggle at their foolery.

“Now, now,” Shouyou steps in between them, patting their arms gently. “Kageyama-kun did his best during this match, it’s not his fault he was so easily overthrown by my glory.”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama scowls, grabbing for his hair. Shouyou spins daintily around and behind Tsukishima’s tall stature, out of reach of Kageyama’s merciless hand. Yamaguchi and Yachi laugh again.

They chitchat a little longer and agree to meet at an izakaya a few blocks away at about 7, giving them all a few hours to decompress after the match. But Shouyou knows that he won’t be able to relax until _that_ is done. As the adrenaline from the match fades from his body, a new sort of buzzing begins to prickle beneath his skin. 

He knows his brain is probably being unreasonable, but that’s never stopped minds from doing their own thing. The faster he faces it, the faster the itchy feeling will go away. Simple as that.

Mind settled, Shouyou’s focus turns back towards the group, ready to say his goodbyes. But Yachi, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi are nowhere to be found; a broad chest fills his vision instead. He looks up and meets Kageyama’s gaze. 

They stare at each other for a few moments, saying nothing. No words are needed to read the message in Kageyama’s expression—the slight upturn of his mouth, the crinkle beneath his eyes, the lax set of his eyebrows.

_“You made it. You’re here.”_

Shouyou’s face, he’s sure, responds in kind.

“ _Yeah, I’m here now.”_

A whistle splits through the air, shattering their bubble. As they’re being shooed off the court with the remaining crowd, Shouyou elbows Kageyama’s side.

Kageyama glares down at him. “Dumbass, what d’ya want?” 

Under that intense stare, Shouyou suddenly feels the dryness of his lips, the beat of his heart; the buzz beneath his skin returns full force. 

Ignoring the rush of anxiety, he grabs Kageyama by the jersey and pulls him in a random direction. “Come with me!” He shouts, voice thick with false confidence. 

Shouyou knows he’s being unreasonable. He might be dense but Kageyama is denser—there is no way he’s misread the mood between them, the inevitability that’s been building since high school. 

There’s always been something special about the two of them, in both good ways and bad. From their hotheaded rivalry that got them kicked off the team, to their blind quick attack born out of desperation, the Karasuno Freak Duo over the years have developed the most strange, yet most remarkable, relationship. 

A bond that transcends friendship. Rivals to partners. Better yet: rivals _and_ partners. Kids of the Monster Generation who were just that—kids—as they grew up, inevitably intertwining their memories, their histories, and their lives together. Shouyou didn’t realize its true nuance until he was halfway across the world, and has spent his years since reflecting on what exactly it means.

He declared Kageyama as his “partner” to Yachi in their first year of high school. But since, both him and Kageyama have walked different—separate—paths. Shouyou has learned how to hit other spiker’s tosses. He’s grasped how to set, serve, receive—how to fly with his own wings. Learning and growing on his own has been fun.

But he wants to soar to the top of the world with Kageyama, and this is not just about the court. 

As he drags Kageyama down the long hallway, around the corner into a private alcove, he reminds himself that what’s (hopefully) about to happen has been a long time coming. Shouyou glances up to the side at Kageyama’s inscrutable expression. Over the years, Shouyou has become unwittingly proficient at reading Kageyama’s facial intricacies—it’s not like he ever _tried_ to, it just happened since Kageyama speaks more honestly with his face than his mouth. Currently, his brows are slightly scrunched, but that’s his default around Shouyou. There’s no slight downward quirk of the lips that reveals discomfort, nor a mild lift of the eyelids to indicate interest. The complete neutrality causes Shouyou’s stomach to churn—he’d really like to know, even the smallest bit, how Kageyama is feeling right now. 

He drops Kageyama’s jersey when they’re sufficiently tucked away in the nook. They stand before a small window, but the crowd outside the arena has thinned, the remaining stragglers too preoccupied with scrolling their phones or catching a ride to notice the duo.

Kageyama’s brow knits further, now in confusion. “What are we doing here, dumbass.” 

The buzzing in his skin starts to crawl, as though his soul is trying to wriggle out of his body. He never felt this way, flirting with people in Brazil! But Kageyama is so much different—so much more—and he knows it.

Luckily, Shouyou’s never let nerves stop him from speaking his mind, nor has he ever had a brain-to-mouth filter, so as Kageyama stares blankly, Shouyou speaks.

“I won today.”

On a normal day—an image of Karasuno’s gym flits through his mind—Kageyama would’ve tried to hit him, or pull his hair, or bark back a crude reply. But today, the furrow between his eyebrows softens, and he looks at Shouyou with a thoughtful expression Shouyou’s never seen him wear before. 

“Yeah. You did.”

Shouyou squints his eyes, glaring. Why does this bastard look so... content?

He jabs his finger directly between Kageyama’s eyes, accusingly. “Stop looking at me like you’re happy about it or something!” 

Eyebrows slightly raised, Kageyama glares back. “Of course I’m happy, dumbass.”

Shouyou’s arm slowly falls, along with his jaw. “W-why?!” He points accusingly again. “I’m gonna overtake your win count if you keep that attitude up! Bastard! Were you not giving it your 100% today?” He’s about to continue mouthing off when Kageyama interrupts him.

“T-this isn’t about that—which I am still in the lead for, by the way!” Kageyama’s shoulders are raised up to his ears with tension. He must realize it as well, for he takes a deep breath through his nose and lets them fall on the exhale. His fists clench as he breaks their eye contact.

“Don’t tell me you’re too stupid to not realize...” He trails off, but Shouyou waits. He knows it takes Kageyama a few moments sometimes to fully translate his thoughts to words. Anticipation buzzes through his veins, so Shouyou fiddles with the hem of his jersey.

In the end, Kageyama sighs before saying. “You’re finally here. Where you said you’d be.” 

When he doesn’t continue, Shouyou is reminded of why he dragged him off to a random corner of the Kamei Arena in the first place. Oops. His instinctive reaction to react defensively when Kageyama is being weird unwittingly kicked in. 

“Yeah! I’m here” He replies, buoyant. “I’m here.”

Kageyama scowls, but his eyes belie his amusement. “Did you take me here just to parrot your words five million times? Dumbass.” 

A wave of irritation swells in Shouyou’s veins. “Your weirdness threw me off track! Cryptic-yama!” He shouts, skin tingling again.

“You can’t just put random words in front of my name and call me by them, dumbass!” 

Shouyou closes his eyes and breathes in, thinking of Rio’s ocean breeze and his feet in the sand. No other human has ever gotten beneath Shouyou’s skin in such a way as Kageyama Tobio. But that’s probably a good thing, Shouyou thinks as he reopens his eyes, resolute.

“I’m finally here, so date me, Bakagaeyama!”

The air stills. Kageyama’s eyes narrow. But Shouyou refuses to back down, gaze locked on Kageyama with an intensity that he hopes reflects the electricity beneath his skin, the pounding of his heart, the reflection of his soul.

After a lifetime of staring into those deep, blue eyes, Kageyama finally blinks. It seems to break the magnetism between them, the weight of the moment pulled from their lungs as they remember how to breathe. 

Shouyou’s body continues to tingle wildly, but he takes a step forward and learns into Kageyama’s space. “Say something!” 

A blush rushes to Kageyama’s face, staining his cheeks a deep red. “You just fucking spit a confession at me—I’m trying to process it!”

“Well, hurry up!” Shouyou could literally split his skull open.

Kageyama huffs, annoyed. He looks a bit constipated—which Shouyou would probably tease him about on another day—but it’s clear the gears are turning in his head. 

Slowly, Kageyama raises his right hand so it’s level with the bottom of Shouyou’ ribcage, floating in the small space between them. His thumb faces towards the ceiling.

Shouyou cocks his head in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Kageyama, if possible, somehow blushes deeper. His eyebrows are practically drawn down to his nose. “Dumbass! Don’t people who are dating, like, hold hands?!”

Shouyou squawks an unintelligible noise, partially in relief but mostly in incredulity. “You didn’t actually say ‘yes’ to that yet! And holding hands is _not_ the same as a hand shake!”

He can practically see the steam fuming from Kageyama’s ears. “Are you gonna take my hand or not!?” He shoves his fingertips into Shouyou’s solar plexus.

“Ow!” Shouyou yelps, reflexively jumping a step back. He bats the other man’s hand away from his body. “ _Kuso_ -Kageyama! No affection for you.” 

Kageyama takes a swipe at him, but Shouyou ducks, narrowly avoiding the blow. He stands back up and they glare at each other, teeth bared. 

A few seconds into their non-verbal battle, Shouyou’s mind finally processes what _actually_ just happened. He confessed to Kageyama. Kageyama said yes, in the most round-about, Kageyama way possible. Shouyou drops his defensive stance and chirps this thought allowed. 

“Of course I said, yes!” Kageyama yells, hand flying up to karate chop Shouyou’s head. 

Shouyou yelps again, rubbing the top of his skull. “Well, good, because that’s 1,097 wins for me now!”

Kageyama snaps back, “How does asking me out count as a win?!”

He looks up snottily at Kageyama, nose tipped towards the sky. “Because I did it first and you didn’t at all therefore I win!” 

Kageyama frowns. “That’s not real logic.” 

“Yes, it is!” Shouyou retorts. “Kunimi was right when he said you only have one brain cell!” 

Kageyama’s hands move to grab Shouyou’s hair, blush darkening in the process. Shouyou deftly steps out of their reach. “Shut up, idiot!”

Shouyou maneuvers every which way while dodging Kageyama’s attacks. He slips out of the alcove and runs down the hallway—his heart and chest so full they could burst. When he glances back, he sees Kageyama charging after him, wearing an expression that displays nothing less than bloodlust. Shouyou involuntarily _eeps_ at the sight and picks up his pace. 

He knows they’re being immature, chasing each other through a fancy gymnasium like they’re teenagers again, but Shouyou can’t help it—he _laughs_ , the notes falling from his lips like wind chime in the breeze; the raw joy he’s feeling bubbling over into a whirlwind of giggles. His steps trail off as he clutches his stomach, doubling over with laughter. Kageyama shortly catches up, face twisted in confusion (it’s not often that Shouyou throws a challenge.) 

Brushing the tears from his eyes, Shouyou takes a deep breath and straightens up. Kageyama continues to stare at him, perplexed. Shouyou wipes his right hand on his shirt before reaching out and lacing his fingers with Kageyama’s left. He draws their tented fingers upwards until their palms touch. Kageyama looks at their hands, dumbstruck. 

“I’m just really happy,” Shouyou says.

He feels Kageyama’s hand slightly stiffen around his own. Shouyou’s stomach flips, but he doesn’t retract the statement. After a long moment, Kageyama shifts his gaze to Shouyou’s.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I’m pretty happy too. Dumbass.”

Shouyou squeezes Kageyama’s palm with great force before letting go and groaning. “Was that ‘dumbass’ _really_ necessary, Kageyama-kun?” He mockingly laments. He brings a hand to his forehead and looks up at the ceiling. “You truly have no tact, all these years later. Why do you have so many fans again?”

Kageyama bristles. “Well, _you’re_ the one who asked me out, so who really has the bad taste, huh?!” He pries Shouyou’s hand off of his forehead and links their fingers together in a manner that Shouyou can only describe as _aggressive_. 

He’s right, though. Shouyou likes basically everything about Kageyama, including his complete lack of charm that in its own way is charming. 

“Nah,” Shouyou replies. “ I think I’m pretty lucky.” 

Kageyama scowls and blushes at the same time. “Whatever,” he grits out. “Just because we’re... together now doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop calling you ‘dumbass’. Because that’s what you still are. A dumbass.”

A grin spreads across Shouyou’s face. “I expect nothing less!”

Kageyama is about to reply—something grouchy, for sure—when someone calls out Shouyou’s name.

“Shouyou-kuuun,” Atsumu drawls again, walking towards the duo from across the hall. “Coach has been waitin’ for ya for _ages_ to get back to the locker room. Sent me on a Hinata scouting mission.” He stops a few feet away and pointedly flicks his gaze down to their linked hands. “Tobio-kun holdin’ ya up, I see?” 

The men jump apart, Shouyou’s face flushing in the process. He brings his hand to the back of his neck and bows slightly. “Sorry to hold you all up, Atsumu-san!” 

Atsumu laughs. “No trouble, no trouble. Everyone just wants ta congratulate ya on your first and absolutely kick ass game. Though I’m sure Tobio-kun has already showered ya in praise.” 

“Please stop talking about me like I’m not here, Atsumu-san,” Tobio says, tone neutral—the dusting of red on his cheeks the only indication that he’s at all feeling any emotion. Shouyou internally giggles at the sight. 

“Nope, he hasn’t said a thing about the game, now that I’m thinking about it,” he says. “What’d’ya think of me, Kageyama? Feeling threatened?” Shouyou siddles up into his space, standing on his tiptoes to talk closer to his ear. 

“Dumbass, get off me,” Kageyama hisses, shoving his face away. He turns to Atsumu. “His plays were mostly satisfactory.” 

Shouyou sputters, indignant, while Atsumu chortles at the two of them. “Damn, Tobio-kun. Ya haven’t changed a bit. And please never do.” 

Kageyama nods, bewildered. 

“‘Mostly satisfactory,’ he says,” Shouyou pouts, stomping away from Kageyama. “We’re leaving now!” 

He walks past Atsumu without pause, towards the direction of the Black Jackals’s locker room. Atsumu falls in-line with his step soon enough, and they make it a few paces before Shouyou turns to look back. 

Kageyama is standing where Shouyou left him, his arms settled over his chest. A slight upward quirk graces one side of his lips. 

“See you again, soon, Kageyama!” Shouyou yells. “And be ready to list all my ‘satisfactory’ plays at dinner!” 

His smile widens, just a fraction, before replying, “Yeah. See you, Hinata.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you have enjoyed the story so far!
> 
> shameless plug: i’m started the [kagehina big bang](https://twitter.com/kagehinabigbang)!! sign ups for writers close on aug 14 + for writers close on aug 21; pinch hitter apps are open till november tho!! check us out; the discord is a great time


	2. 1,098 vs 1,100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note: i wrote this before the official team locations were released so I just wrote it like they were both based in sendai 🤪 in this house, we ignore canon for plot

Shouyou is the last one to make it to the izakaya. Yachi waves at him through the window and he flashes her a smile back. With a final inhale of the crisp November air, Shouyou opens the door and steps into the entryway. He strips off his jacket and scarf as he walks towards his friends, the sudden humidity already causing sweat to form on his brow. 

The table has already ordered their first round of beers—with the exception of Tsukishima, a glass of kahlúa and milk wrapped loosely in his hand. Shouyou gives Yachi and Yamaguchi a hug before sliding into the open seat next to Kageyama opposite of them. 

“Hi, Kageyama!” He chirps. His skin tingles at their proximity, but in a more pleasant way than before at the gym. 

“Hi,” Kageyama replies. A typical Simpleton-yama response. Shouyou grins up at him, and Kageyama stares back, the corner of his lip twitching as though he’s trying (and failing) to repress a smile. They look at each other for a few more moments, expressions unchanging. Shouyou’s heart swoops around in his chest.

“Can you guys stop eye-fucking for, like, two seconds at a time. Please,” Tsukishima says, bringing his drink up to his lips. 

Kageyama swivels towards him, glaring. “Shut up.”

Tsukishima lifts his eyebrow, glass still covering the lower half of his face. “Am I _wrong_ , though?”

Kageyama flicks his gaze to Shouyou, in question. Shouyou replies through a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “ _We’ll tell them tomorrow,”_ it says. “ _Let this just be ours alone, for just one night._ ”

“Whatever,” Kageyama grunts, taking a sip of his beer. He shoves Shouyous pre-ordered glass into his chest. “You haven’t had any yet.”

Shouyou giggles before taking a big gulp. “ _Paaaah_ ,” he sighs, cold drink refreshing in the warm room. “Kageyama-kun is so doting!” 

“Shut up, dumbass,” he says, elbowing Shouyou in the side. They scuffle for a few moments; Shouyou ends the battle with a solid kick to Kageyama’s shin. The setter scowls, taking another sip of his beer.

“And now they’re playing footsie,” Tsukishima says ruefully. Yamaguchi and Yachi burst out laughing while Shouyou and Kageyama glare at the trio. 

Tsukishima summons the waiter over. “May I please have another kahlúa and milk and a plate of _karaage?_ ” He stares pointedly at Kageyama. “It’s going to be a long night.” 

Kageyama looks like he wants to jump Tsukishima again, but busies himself instead by looking at the small plate menu. Shouyou quickly scans it, as well, deciding on some dishes before the waiter reaches his turn. He decides to order a bowl of _sake_ , too; he played and won his first V League game today—he’s allowed to have a good time tonight. 

The waiter leaves and Kageyama immediately scrunches his nose. “ _Sake?_ Really? That shit’s gross.” 

Shouyou kicks him under the table again. “Shut up! I had so much beer in Brazil that I like to change it up now that I’m back in Japan.” Shouyou downs the rest of his beer before quirking up an eyebrow. “Besides, you probably don’t like it just because you can’t handle more than, like, two glasses before passing out.” 

Kageyama’s nostrils flare. “What’d’ya say, dumbass? We’ve never even drank together before!” 

Shouyou giggles and flicks his gaze towards the trio across the table. “A little birdy has told me that ‘Yama-yama can’t hold his liquor. Sources off the record, of course.” 

“You bastard! We’ve only drank together, like, twice.” He glares at Tsukishima. 

“Hey, Hinata didn’t say who; don’t attack me just because I’m here.” 

“I’m sorry, Kageyama-kun!” Yachi squeaks, unbidden. She lowers her head a bit, the tips of her ears visibly red. “Hinata got me to spill while we were both super drunk at the Karasuno reunion last year!”

Shouyou leaps to his feet in protest. “Excuse me, Yacchan, but you offered up that fact on your own accord, thank you very much.” He crosses his arms. “I just happened to text you at the right place and time.”

“Sit down, dumbass.” Kageyama growls, tugging Shouyou’s shirt down, with the man in tow. “And, yes, that happened _once_ but the party was right after practice, and I barely had time to shower, much less eat.” He puckers his lips, eyebrows fully furrowed.

“Actually now that I think about it, I wasn’t even planning on drinking. Sugawara-san just kept handing me beers and I felt bad saying no—and that last drink was definitely a mix drink, not a beer...” His fingers have crept up to rub at his chin, deep in contemplation. 

Tsukishima barks out a laugh. “You never have been able to defend yourself from Sugawara-san’s mischief.” 

Before Kageyama can retort, Shouyou speaks up. “Whatever, Tsukishima! That doesn’t matter!” Shouyou scooches up to Kageyama’s side and bumps their shoulders playfully. “What matters is that Kageyama Tobio, one of the world’s most renowned professional volleyball players, is a _lightweight_.” 

Shouyou braces himself as Kageyama slams his body weight into his shoulder—hard. He manages to stay upright at the table, if just barely. 

“That was one time!” Kageyama grits out. He turns to glare down at Shouyou. A shiver runs down Shouyou’s spine, but not in a bad way.

“I’m gonna drink more than you tonight,” Kageyama declares. “And I’ll even do it drinking that piss liquid.” 

“Piss liquid is the nickname for beer, idiot...” Tsukishima mutters across the table. 

“You know what I mean!” Kageyama yells. “The _sake_!”

Shouyou puts his hand to his heart in mock-offense. “Don’t say such mean things in front of her, Kageyama!” He picks up his _sake_ bowl and holds it close to his face. “Don’t let him hurt your feelings, you are just as valid of an alcohol as any other kind.”

Satisfied that the _sake_ is appeased, he turns his attention back towards the setter. “You’re on!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Dumbass.” He calls over a bowl of _sake_ , glaring at Shouyou after the fact (as though Kageyama hadn’t forced the drink upon himself). Upon arrival, he holds the glass up next to Shouyou’s.

“Ready to lose?”

Yachi shivers. Yamaguchi chuckles. Tsukishima sighs. 

Hinata grins as he clinks their dishes together. “As if!”

Tsukishima grumbles, “It’s going to be a long night,” as the two down their entire bowls at once. 

***

One and a half hours and four bowls of _sake_ later, Kageyama can barely sit up straight, much less still. He sways back and forth, as if to invisible music, eyes closed.

“Do you concede defeat, Kageyama-kun?” Shouyou gibes. He’s definitely not sober, but he’s more than conscious, which is better than Kageyama can say. 

“No, idiot,” Kageyama huffs. “I can definitely keep going.”

“It is _definitely_ time for you to stop,” Tsukishima butts in. “One more drink and you’re not gonna make it past the izakaya’s doorway tonight.”

Yamaguchi howls with laughter at the not-joke.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry”— _hiccup_ —“Tsukkiiihehe...”

Yachi giggles wildly when Yamaguchi slumps himself onto Tsukishima’s shoulder and wraps his arms around the taller boy’s neck.

Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m surrounded by happy, drunk lightweights. God help me.”

“It’s okay, Tsukishima, I’m not drunk yet!” Hinata chirps.

“You don’t even have to be drunk to constantly ooze happiness. You’re worse.” 

Shouyou leans across the table and moves to ruffle his hair. Tsukishima holds his wrists in an iron grip before he can get any closer. “I _will_ kill you, Hinata.”

Pouting, Shouyou wiggles his wrists as he sits down, only fully freed by Tsukishima once in his seat. He looks over to Kageyama, who’s nearly faceplanted onto the table. Shouyou calls for a waiter to refill their water glasses. 

He leans in and pokes Kageyama’s cheek in quick succession. “Oi, ‘Yama-yama. Drink up.” Shouyou takes a sip first, like a good role model.

Kageyama grumbles incoherently, but drinks some water anyways. 

“So, you three agree that I won, right?” Shouyou asks. Before waiting for a response, he declares, “That’s 1,098 wins for me! Your meager lead is in danger, Kageyama-kun! Watch out!” 

Tsukishima replies, “My personal take is that everyone lost tonight but—” 

“Definitely, Hinata!” Yamaguchi exclaims belatedly, cutting the blond off. 

“He looks even _worse_ than he did at last year's reunion,” Yachi remarks. “You might want to take the train home with him, to make sure he doesn’t get lost. Or worse! What if someone tries to jump him and they end up fighting, but Kageyama-kun is too drunk to truly fight back...” She devolves into a trail of worried murmurs, each scenario more morbid than the next. Yamaguchi pats her arm comfortingly. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Kageyama retaliates. “Especially not dumbass Hinata. Dumbasshouyou.” 

Heat crawls up Shouyou’s spine at the utterance of his given name, even though it was in the form of an insult. “Shut up, Bakageyama!” He shoves an onigiri into his mouth. “Once we’re done with this plate, I’m taking you home!”

Kageyama stares at him blankly for a moment. Then, a sudden rush of blood colors his face all at once. Shouyou hadn’t meant it that way, truly, but he’s glad he said it; Kageyama’s face is priceless. Shouyou whips out his phone and snaps a picture before the setter can react. 

“Idiot!” Kageyama snaps, kicking his chair away from the table. “I’ll kill you!”

He launches himself at Shouyou, grabbing for his phone. Shouyou laughs and tosses the device to Yamaguchi. “Protect it with your life, Yamaguchi-san!” 

Yamaguchi slips it into his pocket and salutes. “Anything for you, Lieutenant Hinata.” 

Despite the tradeoff, Kageyama continues his onslaught against Shouyou. His jabs are sluggish, though, and Shouyou easily dodges them. After a final attempt, Kageyama settles back into his seat and glares at Shouyou from a distance. 

The thought that, somehow, irritated, drunk Kageyama is _extremely_ cute flits through Shouyou’s mind. He scrunches his nose in displeasure. Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought, calling Kageyama _cute_. He might like the man, but not for his _looks_! Shouyou reaches for the last onigiri and chews on it, disgruntled. 

...Okay, maybe a little for his looks. But Kageyama is _hot_ not _cute—_

Tsukishima calls his name, interrupting his Kageyama-oriented spiraling. “We’re paying and heading out. You might need to piggyback your boyfriend out of here.”

Shouyou can’t retort, since he’s not _technically_ wrong about the boyfriend thing. He settles for glaring at the blond, who has already moved on to bundling up in winter clothing. 

Kageyama yawns and stands up, swaying slightly. Jacket on, he moves to pick up his scarf, but Shouyou snatches it up before him. He coils it around Kageyama’s neck so that only his eyes and hair are visible. The setter pulls the fabric down, glaring. 

“Why’d’ya do that?”

Shouyou giggles while wrapping up his own scarf. “Because I wanted to! And you look like you’re on the verge of passing out, maybe I wanted to do something _nice_ for you or something.”

Kageyama scoffs, “I’m not so drunk that I can’t put on a scarf.” He brings his hands up, flexing his fingers. “My hands are, like, the thing I’m best with in the first place.”

Yamaguchi lets out a small whistle. “Ooh, Kageyama, say it louder for the people in the back!” 

Shouyou nearly chokes on his spit. Kageyama sputters, incoherent and indignant. 

“Nice, Yamaguchi!” He high-touches the man across the table. 

As the trio heads towards the register, Shouyou sidles up close to Kageyama. He can feel the warmth radiating off of his body through the thick coat. He leans further into his space, and a familiar scent fills his nose, along with the sharp smell of alcohol. Kageyama doesn’t push him away; he even rests his face against Shouyou’s hair—if just the slightest bit. 

“Hey, I just realized,” Shouyou starts. “You never told me about my ‘satisfactory’ plays tonight.”

Kageyama stands up straight to look him in the eye; Shouyou bemoans the loss of pressure.

“Your receives are less shitty,” Kageyama says. His eyelids droop as his brow pinches, lost in drunken thought. 

“‘Less shitty’ he says...” Shouyou grumbles. “Not even, like, ‘more better.’ Always the Debby Downer, aren’t you...”

Kageyama snaps out of his stupor, training a glare on Shouyou. “Fine, dumbass. Since you’re so obviously fishing for praise...”

Shouyou’s eyebrows fly up as he continues, “They were actually amazing and the fact that you never dropped a knee was really impressive.” Kageyama brings his hands before him and flexes his fingers over and over, as though grasping for words.

“Your jumps have gotten higher, despite putting on like five hundred pounds of muscle.”

Shouyou just looks at him, mouth agape, as he finishes, “But what was most great about the game was seeing you set. Fuck. What the fuck.” Kageyama’s head lolls to the side as he closes his eyes, dropping his arms. “It’s clear to anyone how hard you worked in Brazil.”

Shouyou’s face flushes rapidly. His tongue is probably loose because he’s drunk, but Shouyou’s never heard so much praise fall from Kageyama’s lips about _anyone_. 

“I’m on the National team, though, so you can’t get complacent,” he breathes out, leaning into Shouyou’s shoulder. 

Shouyou huffs out a breath, leaning into Kageyama. “You’re right. I can’t.” He purposely overbalances, shoving Kageyama off of him; the setter glares in response. Shouyou leans his head up towards Kageyama’s so their noses are only a centimeter apart.

“But I’ll be joining you soon.”

Kageyama smiles, lips closed, and pushes Shouyou back to the ground, hand resting steadily on Shouyou’s head. He combs his fingers through Shouyou’s short locks once before dropping his arm back to his side.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Shouyou holds his gaze for a few moments, eyes crinkled at the corners. He then glances at the register and notes that Tsukishima is currently paying; Yamaguchi is glued to his side, but Yachi is staring at him and Kageyama, eyes filled with shock or awe or both. Shouyou acts like he doesn’t see her eyeing them and moves to join their friends. Kageyama follows a step behind him, swaying rather gracelessly with each footfall. 

Slipping the cashier his credit card, Shouyou quietly whispers to her that he’s covering both of their checks. She smiles and processes their order. Kageyama realizes a second too late.

“Oi, dumbass, I could’ve paid for my own stuff.”

Shouyou giggles. “I assumed you were too drunk to get out your credit card.”

Frowning, Kageyama fumbles around for the wallet in his coat pockets. He fishes out a card, smile forming on his lips, before letting out a huff; he slides it back into the wallet and trades it for his actual credit card, which he waves proudly before Shouyou’s face. 

“Too late anyways, ‘Yama-yama!” Shouyou chirps. “I guess you’ll have to make it up to me some other way.” 

Kageyama’s brow furrows in confusion. “Don’t you mean ‘some other time’?”

“Nope!” 

Shouyou watches the setter wrangle with his words. A few moments later, his face flushes with a new wave of red. Shouyou giggles, breath leaving his nose in short bursts. 

Kageyama bats at him, but Shouyou catches his wrist and swivels to link their arms together. He scowls but as his eyes meet Shouyou’s, his features begrudgingly soften into the slightest smile. 

Shouyou’s laugh rings out as they leave the izakaya, arm in arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drunk, begrudgingly affectionate kageyama
> 
> _breaks a table_
> 
> they are so disgusting😭😭
> 
> also writing tsukki is so fun, he’ such a lil bitch


	3. 1,099 vs 1,110

They part ways with their former classmates at the door—Tsukishima has an apartment nearby, so Yamaguchi and Yachi are going to crash with him for the night. Shouyou gives them all a big hug (even Tsukishima lets him!) and gets his phone back from Yamaguchi. Kageyama stiffly side-hugs Yamaguchi and Yachi as well, awkward as usual. Him and Tsukishima glare at each other until Yamaguchi pulls the taller boy away, scolding him gently. 

Shouyou and Kageyama turn the other direction towards the train station. The air is even cooler and crisper this late at night, and Shouyou breathes in deeply, simply delighted. He didn’t get this kind of refreshing autumn in Rio. The cold helps him feel more sober, too, even if it’s just placebo.

As they pace forward, he angles himself sideways and bumps lightly into Kageyama. The setter grunts but otherwise makes no objection to their proximity. 

“Sooooo,” Shouyou starts. “Ya sure ya don’t need a piggyback to the station?”

Kageyama elbows him. “Shut up, dumbass. If we raced to the station right now, I could definitely kick your ass.”

“Not every sentence you say has to end with ‘ass,’ Kageyama-kun,” Shouyou chides, rubbing his ribs tenderly. “I’m using my one sober brain cell to decree that no racing is allowed until we’re within half a kilometer from the station. I’ll even turn Google Maps on to alert us.” He fiddles with his phone for a second, plugging in the coordinates. “But you’re on!” 

Any opportunity to challenge Kageyama is a good opportunity, even if Shouyou feels like he’s cheating a bit due to Kageyama’s clear drunkenness. But they’re at least twenty minutes from the station, giving them both time to clear their heads, and Kageyama’s the one who initiated it in the first place. His loss, his fault.

Thoroughly appeased by this conclusion, Shouyou skips a couple steps and admires the cold wind against his face. Kageyama lengthens his stride only a few paces to catch up—the dumb, tall showoff. They continue walking shoulder to shoulder wordlessly, Shouyou lost in his thoughts and Kageyama half asleep. Other than the intermittent rumble of cars and the occasional passersby, the street shares in their silence.

Shouyou thinks back to when he first realized he liked Kageyama in more of an ultimate rival/volleyball partner sort of way. He was having a rough day, about three months into his time in Rio. The night before, he’d gotten lost on a delivery order and ended up losing a few hours of sleep; the day after had consisted of many failed serves and digs. After falling into bed after dinner and a shower, slightly frustrated and definitely over-tired, Shouyou texted Kageyama a few random thoughts in Portuguese, just to distract himself.

Once Kageyama went pro, they mainly communicated through text. This was fine by Shouyou—he was entrenched in beach volleyball training and learning Portuguese, so it’s not like he had much free time either. That gap year, they saw each other a few times when Kageyama returned to their hometown; they would bump a volleyball back and forth and catch up on everything and nothing. When he went overseas, texting was the easiest way to keep in touch. They still ended up chatting a lot less frequently, though, thanks to the massive time difference.

Shouyou didn’t really miss Kageyama, but he didn’t really “miss” others often; there was so much around him in Rio—volleyball to play, meals to deliver, people to meet—that Shouyou didn’t have much time to dwell on the past.

Of course, there were exceptions. That first day in Rio, tucked into the corner of his room, Shouyou thought about Kageyama, about Karasuno. The clamor in the club room before practice, the squeak of shoes against the lacquered wood. He thought about his house, where Natsu would jump into his arms everyday after practice and tell him of her daily life, where his mom always had a fresh, hot meal waiting for him, no matter how late the hour. His homesickness had struck him like a wave and soaked him to the bone. 

He considered calling Kageyama, that night—why Kageyama, the shittiest conversationalist to ever exist, Shouyou couldn’t answer. But before he could spiral any further, he dragged himself up and headed to the beach. Fortuitously running into Oikawa and playing beach volleyball got his blood pumping, got his thoughts to halt their torrent of words. He felt the moisture—the heavy, clinging stuff—leave his body with each game they played together that week. He never ended up contacting Kageyama, other than to shoot him that text of their selfie.

Shouyou had never hit the low of the first night again, but that night, the weight of his limbs and the dull ache in his chest was undeniable. 

Shouyou’s phone buzzed next to his ear, jolting him from his thoughts.

From _Ousama_ -yama (21:03)

>Why do you always fucking text me in Portuguese, you know that translations to Japanese are shit

Shouyou huffed an amused breath at the very Kageyama-esque response.

To _Ousama_ -yama (21:04)

< because watching you get frustrated trying to understand them is funny lol

From _Ousama_ -yama (21:04)

> I’m not your source of entertainment, dumbass. Some of us have things like jobs you know

To _Ousama_ -yama (21:05)

< hey! i have a job! multiple, actually!

From _Ousama_ -yama (21:05)

> I’ll believe it when I see it

Shouyou rolled onto his side, trying and failing to restrain a smile. Their dynamic was so easy to slip back into, the quintessential banter always refreshing. 

They bickered for another five minutes about nothing—from Shouyou’s _actual genuine job_ as a delivery boy and beach volleyball teacher to what the original Portuguese texts were saying. 

Kageyama wasn’t one to normally text back and forth for long periods of time—he was more of a one-word response kind of guy. Shouyou mentions such.

From _Ousama_ -yama (21:11)

> I’m off today

 _Ousama-yama is typing..._ flashes on the screen for several moments. Shouyou holds his breath in suspense.

The alert stopped flashing, but a new message didn’t come. Shouyou pursed his lips.

To _Ousama_ -yama (21:13)

< spit it out!!!

From _Ousama_ -yama (21:14)

> Back off, dumbass! 

Shouyou practically threw his phone across the room. Bakageyama!

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:15)

> I started training with the Olympic team recently

Shouyou’s heart clenched. It’s an odd feeling—a simultaneous mix of pride, envy, and longing. He pushes those thoughts aside and sends his next text. 

To _Ousama-_ yama (21:15)

< oh? how is it?

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:16)

> It’s okay. Everyone is very skilled

> No one’s served a ball to the back of my head yet, at least.

Shouyou squawked, fingers furiously tapping across the keyboard.

To _Ousama-_ yama (21:16)

< I LITERALLY HAVEN’T DONE THAT SINCE LIKE SECOND YEAR YOU ASS

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:16)

> Clearly you are forgetting about when you started trying jump serves in 3rd year. I don’t think anyone was left unscathed 

To _Ousama-_ yama (21:16)

< SHUT UP!! 

< you would cower in fear at the state of my serves now-a-days... just wait, kageyama!!!!!!!

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:17)

> Sure.

Shouyou stuck his tongue out at his phone. Meany-yama. 

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:18)

> So yeah, Olympic training started

> The coach wanted me to try the freak quick with some of our hitters on the team

Shouyou’s blood froze. It wasn’t jealousy, per say, since Shouyou has never _needed_ to rely on Kageyama since early in their first year. And he knew that the quick was a valuable weapon, and that it’s not limited to just him and Kageyama—the Miya twins had adapted it for themselves, after all. But something felt wrong about anyone else doing it with _Kageyama_. Before he could react, a new message came in.

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:19)

> But when I explained to the players that they had to close their eyes while hitting the ball, none of them could do it

Clearly his masochistic side was popping out today, for despite the great pain it brought upon him, he texted back:

To _Ousama-_ yama (21:20)

< what about the falling toss

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:20)

> We tried that first but the timing was so off that I suggested we do the original set up so that people could get a feel for the speed

> But in the end, no one could do it

> You’re still the only one who gets it

> I wish you were here so we could do a demo

> That toss is one of the most gratifying to do, too

He knew that Kageyama sent the last few texts from a completely objective and practical standpoint, but his heart jumped around in his chest nonetheless. 

To _Ousama-_ yama (21:21)

< ohoho, admitting that i’m the most fun to play with? sappy-yama hours

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:21)

> Shut up, idiot! That’s not what I meant!

Shouyou laughed, the sound piercing in the stillness of his room.

To _Ousama-_ yama (21:21)

< when i’m back in japan! i wanna hit your tosses again, _ousama-_ yama

< so you better be ready for me!

From _Ousama-_ yama (21:22)

> Yeah. I’ll be waiting

By this point, Shouyou’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Had he always felt this way, talking to Kageyama? Or was it the thrill of still being the only one that can hit Kageyama’s “reckless” toss? The fact that Kageyama said he’ll be waiting? Shouyou squeezed his eyes shut, racking his mind for an answer.

After a few moments, the gears finally clicked. 

It’s less that he felt his feelings actively _change_ —it was more like a shift in perspective, like when he realized the trick of an optical illusion, or like when Bokuto taught him how to feint. The option was there but never considered. 

He liked Kageyama Tobio. In _that_ way. The revelation made his mind fizz. Pieces of their past clicked together, a puzzle finally solved.

 _Oh_.

Shouyou wrapped up the conversation after that, claiming that he needed to sleep. Instead, he spent the next two hours re-evaluating every interaction he’d ever had with Kageyama—earlier exhaustion completely forgotten in favor of losing his mind. The next night was a lot of the same, but with more _adult_ thoughts added into the mix. He only finally regained his sanity the next night when Pedro caught him buried under a bunch of blankets on their couch at 12am, eating _nori_ by the sheet. Pedro listened to his woes in what was likely extremely botched Portuguese, emotions overriding his hard-earned language skills.

Just getting it off his chest, admitting to _someone_ other than himself that he liked Kageyama, was relief in itself. Not to mention that, while having a crisis over his male high school rival/partner, he unintentionally came out to Pedro as well. After Shouyou finished his ramblings, Pedro looked at him dumbfounded for a few moments before saying, “I’m not sure I understood all of that, but...” He gave Shouyou a tentative thumbs up. “ _Ganbatte_.”

Shouyou chuckles aloud at the memory—the cold air filling his lungs returning him to the present. 

“Hey, Kageyama.” He looks over to the man, who looks considerably more alert than he was a few minutes ago. Dark blue eyes meet his from the side.

“What?” 

“When did you start liking me?” 

Kageyama glares at him for a moment before looking away, a dust of red settling on his ears. “Why do you need to know? Dumbass Hinata.”

“I don’t need to know, I _want_ to know,” Shouyou pouts. Kageyama’s lips are pulled into a taut line as he holds his gaze forward. Shouyou huffs air through his nose and watches the misty particles evaporate into nothing. He then glances down at their hands, which have been brushing against each other every other step. 

“Can I hold your hand?” He blurts out, before his intoxicated brain can catch up to his mouth.

Kageyama inhales a stuttered breath, air catching in his throat. “God, yes, dumbass, you don’t have to ask.” The blush has creeped into his cheeks now, the warm color a stark contrast to his dark hair. 

Shouyou scans the street for people. Nope; they’re in the clear. 

He takes Kageyama’s hand between both of his and holds it to eye level. Kageyama’s fingers are cold and long, knuckles sticking out prominently at each joint. 

“What are you doing?” Kageyama stops walking. Shouyou continues to stare reverently at the hand that helped give him wings, helped him soar to new heights. Memories of their time on the court together run through his mind like a film reel.

After a few more moments, he lowers his hand and slips their fingers together, lightly squeezing. Kageyama gives him a constipated look, but that’s nothing new. 

They continue their tromp forwards. Shouyou swings their arms back and forth gently, savoring the giddy feeling that sweeps through him. 

“Third year,” Kageyama says suddenly. He’s still avoiding Shouyou, gaze turned towards an unlit storefront window. 

“Third year?” Shouyou repeats, bemused.

“That’s when I realized that I... liked you.” His head tilts down, as though trying to bury himself into his scarf.

Shouyou’s jaw drops. Two whole years before he himself realized! On one hand, he feels like he’s lost a battle he didn’t even realize he was fighting. On the other, he thinks about Kageyama for all those years, alone in his feelings for Shouyou. A lump forms in his throat.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Shouyou asks, tapping his fingers against Kageyama’s knuckles.

Kageyama finally turns to him, catching his gaze. “Why didn’t _you_ ever say anything?”

Shouyou grumbles, “Touche, Kageyama-kun.”

Kageyama smirks for a moment, quickly squaring his face back to neutral. 

After a moment, Shouyou continues. “So you’re not going to ask me back?”

Kageyama replies, a tinge of _something_ in his voice. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

Shouyou considers this and actually agrees with the man for once. To be fair, the set up was in place for years, most definitely! He just... took a while to connect the pieces. 

“I still don’t get how you didn’t say anything, or at least, like, drop hints!” Shouyou wants to know about a world in which Kageyama confessed to him in their third year. Would he have realized his feelings earlier? Could they have been dating for years, by now? Or would they no longer be part of each other’s lives? Shouyou shakes his head at the latter thought. No matter what timeline, him and Kageyama would always be together in some fashion.

“You think your dense brain would have taken a hint?” Kageyama snaps, breaking his train of thought. Shouyou puckers his lips in frustration. He is definitely not the dense one in this relationship!

“Besides,” Kageyama breathes. “Maybe I was waiting for you.” 

Shouyou can only gape at Kageyama, the genuine words catching him off guard. Kageyama’s jaw is set hard, but he maintains their eye contact with great intensity, as though both begging for and fearing Shouyou’s response. 

Just when coherent thoughts begin to swirl around in his mind, rising up like a storm, his phone pings, alerting the duo of their earlier challenge. 

They stare at each other for a moment, completely still. Then, in tandem, they take off, hands breaking apart to pump their arms at their sides. 

Shouyou inhales deep lungfuls of the autumn air, letting them ground him as his heart rate picks up and his chest heaves. His legs pace forwards as if controlled by another human, his surroundings a complete blur. He can hear Kageyama breathing at his side, heavy but not labored. 

The giant, neon sign above the station comes into view. Shouyou picks up his pace, every step against the sidewalk reverberating through his body. He can hear Kageyama’s feet _thwack_ against the pavement, as well. 

A hundred paces from the door, Shouyou shifts another gear up, ignoring the unevenness of his breaths and the burn of his thighs. Glancing to his side, Kageyama has fallen a few steps behind, though no less more determined than before. It’s with this narrow lead that Shouyou touches the subway building first, hands stinging as they hit the wall. He hears the slap of Kageyama’s palms join his under a second later. 

They stand there for a few seconds, regaining their breaths and calming their hearts. Shouyou presses his forehead to the glass, its cool surface refreshing. After a few seconds, he turns towards Kageyama, cocking a thumb at himself. 

“My win! 1,100 to 1,099. Three losses in a row—how will Kageyama-kun repair his pride after this damaging blow?”

“Shut up, idiot.” Kageyama pushes him lightly. “It wasn’t that drastic of a loss.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, compared to your last loss, this was a great improvem—hey!”

Kageyama has taken a hold of his hair, squeezing it with great might. Shouyou squirms out of his grasp, twisting every which way and generating strange noises until he’s free. He glares at Kageyama, who’s glaring right back. 

His eyebrows are drawn low on his face, lips quirking out in the smallest pout. A flush resides high on his cheeks from the sprint, and his bangs are stuck firmly to his temples with sweat. Little puffs of air steam from his nose on every exhale.

Shouyou takes a step closer, and so does Kageyama. Now, Shouyou can see the setter’s rich, blue eyes; not so dark they appear black, but not so light they appear clear. A mid tone blue, so familiar after all their years spent together, Shouyou’s heart flutters in his chest. Kageyama’s brow has relaxed, unabashedly staring back at Shouyou. 

Kageyama Tobio is cute as fuck. There, world, he’s thought it—willingly—you can cast him into the ether now for treason. He’s not taking it back. 

Shouyou wiggles his toes in glee then pounces on Kageyama, who makes a small _oof_ as their bodies slam together. Shouyou’s arms are wrapped around his neck, and he breathes a laugh into his ear. Kageyama, stiff at first, slowly relaxes into the hug, arms coming up to delicately hold him around the waist. 

Shouyou pulls back first, locking eyes with Kageyama once more. The flash of his blue eyes and red cheeks sends another shock of joy through Shouyou’s system, and he sings a note of delight before slamming his forehead against Kageyama’s chest again. The setter tightens his grip, and Shouyou feels like he may combust then and there. 

With a final inhale, Shouyou unravels his arms from around Kageyama’s neck. Kageyama’s arms fall to his sides, and Shouyou takes a small step back. He offers his hand, palm up. 

“Let’s go!” He chimes.

Kageyama settles his hand on top; Shouyou pivots to his side and properly fits their hands together.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raise your hand if you, as well, have spent multiple days of your life losing your mind over kageyama tobio _raises own hand_


	4. 1,100 vs 1,100

“My apartment is bigger, dumbass!” He shoves Shouyou as they walk through the gates.

“Yeah, but mine is closer! And it’s not like we need space!” Shouyou yells back.

“None of your sleep clothes are gonna fit me, you runt!”

“Then just don’t wear any!” 

They pause their screaming match as Shouyou’s mind catches up to his mouth. He feels the heat rise into his cheeks and ears; Kageyama isn’t faring much better. 

Shouyou huffs and continues forward. “My place.”

Kageyama growls, matching his pace. “Fine.”

They pass their time on the train by tapping away at their phones, catching up on the day’s events. Their car is relatively empty—the time being late and a weekday—but Shouyou stays pressed to Kageyama’s side.

The walk from the train station to Shouyou’s apartment is only a few minutes, and he happily trots home, dragging Kageyama through the winding side streets. He feels significantly more sober than he was an hour ago, and by the looks of it, Kageyama is too.

As Shouyou fishes his keys from his bag, Kageyama says, “I was right. Your apartment is the size of a shoebox.”

Shouyou ignores his comment, shoving his key into the lock. Before opening the door, Shouyou pauses, then snaps his head towards Kageyama. “Actually wait—how did you know your apartment is bigger? You’ve never been to mine!”

Kageyama gives him the biggest shit-eating grin. “You’ve only been back in Japan for, what, six months? Your main sponsor is Kozume-san, who only gives you enough to keep you on your feet. And you’re you, so you probably have negative savings. It wasn’t hard to guess.” 

“I told you, I had _two jobs_ in Brazil, you bastard, I have savings!” He bristles in retaliation. “Don’t judge a man by his lodging. There are just better things to spend money on.” He swings the door open and steps into the entryway, contemplating whether or not to slam the door on Kageyama’s face.

“Uh huh,” Kageyama says, pushing him to the side and slipping off his shoes. Shouyou lets out a little _oof_ as he merely trips over his feet. He glares at the other man, but because he is a patient, generous, mature soul, he drops the argument.

Kageyama’s eyes scan the room as Shouyou changes into house slippers. His skin buzzes, an itchy feeling. He didn’t realize how strange it would be to see Kageyama in his house. Did he leave anything incriminating laying around? 

Before he can panic further, Kageyama steps up from the entryway, uttering a quiet “Excuse the intrusion.” Shouyou scrambles up to keep pace behind him.

At the end of the short hallway, Kageyama fumbles along the wall for a light switch as they step into the largest room of the apartment. Shouyou uses the space as a mix of living room, dining room, and work out room, each respective rooms’ standard items taking up their own areas of the floor. Kageyama scuffs at a dirty sock on the floor before continuing into the full space. Shouyou blushes as he picks up the sock, shoving it in his pocket to throw in the laundry later.

Kageyama’s eyes are drawn to the photos tapped haphazardly above his dining room table. They span a long range of time—from Shouyou’s elementary school shenanigans to his time in Brazil. 

“Coming back to Japan was a bit of a shock after being away for a while,” he starts, unbidden. “I felt like I was tripping over my words, sometimes, even though it’s my native language. And I honestly—surprisingly—really, really missed Rio. I’m not used to missing things.” He walks over and points to a photo of him and Pedro relaxing on the couch, reading manga together in their respective second languages. “I got really close to my roommate, Pedro, too. Not in that way!” He clarifies quickly, smirking. “But I was just feeling kind of melancholy right when I moved in so I called Kenma and he said ‘Make a photo shrine or something’ ironically but I was like, that’s actually a great idea!” Shouyou is completely babbling at this point, but he can’t stop, nerves careening him forwards. 

“But then I realized that my time in Brazil wasn’t the only time that deserved appreciation! All of it did. Because my life’s been so awesome.”

He taps at another photo. “This was my phone background for my first year and a half in Rio. Seeing all your faces always gave me a boost. And ironically, they helped me get over my homesickness eventually.”

Knowing that his friends were still there, if not physically, helped Shouyou pull himself out of his initial rut. Just one text or phone call away felt like a lot less distance than 11,000 miles. 

Shouyou turns back to Kageyama, grinning. Kageyama is standing there, stiffly, fiddling with his fingers. 

His smile begins to dim. “Sorry! That was a lot to dump on you—”

“No, idiot!” Kageyama barks, stilling his fingers. Shouyou cocks his head, confused. 

Kageyama huffs and looks back at the wall. “I just feel like I missed out on a lot of what you were doing in Brazil.”

Shouyou’s smile grows once more. “Oh! I mean, it’s not like I kept you in the loop, either.” Even after his major, Kageyama-related revelation, they mainly kept up over text—and mostly bantered about irrelevant hypotheticals or volleyball news.

Kageyama looks back to Shouyou and bites his lip. “If you want to talk about it more, I’ll listen.”

Shouyou’s heart squeezes then swells, a warm current flowing to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

“Yeah, totally! But a little later. Finish looking around so I can stop feeling nervous!”

“Why are you nervous, dumbass? It’s not like I’m judging you.” He stares pointedly at the piles of paper atop the table. “I already know you’re a slob.”

Shouyou squawks, “It’s not like you’re better, volleyball-for-brains! Your shit in high school was everywhere!”

“You were and are literally the same!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true for you, too!” Shouyou sticks his nose up, turning away. “And yes, I’m nervous, Bakageyama. It’s okay to be honest and tell people about your feelings, you know.”

Kageyama growls, batting at Shouyou’s head. He deftly ducks, as always, but rather than attacking with another blow, Kageyama pauses, brows furrowed deep. The next moment, he takes a step towards him. Shouyou skitters back, hands up.

“You wanna go?” Shouyou bounces his fists in the air like a wrestler.

Kageyama scowls and grabs his shoulders. “No, dumbass. Stay still.” 

He takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. Shouyou is wiggling in protest—prepared for a mega-chop to the head—when long arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer. For a few moments, he stands there limp, completely stunned. Then, soul returning to his body, he yanks his arms out from in between their frames and binds them around Kageyama’s waist, humming a satisfied noise. He burrows his face into the space between Kageyama’s neck and shoulder and inhales deeply. Slowly, Kageyama rests his nose onto the crown of Shouyou’s head.

He exhales into Shouyou’s hair, tickling his scalp. “If you want me to be more honest,” he grits out. Instead of finishing the statement, though, Kageyama just hugs him harder.

Shouyou reciprocates, basking in Kageyama’s body heat. The hammering thump of Kageyama’s heart mirrors his own, and another wave of joy ripples across his skin. So Kageyama likes hugs. That’s good to know. 

Eventually, he pulls back, craning his neck to peak at Kageyama.

The setter avoids Shouyou’s gaze, lips pinched and brow furrowed. Deep patches of red bloom across his face.

“Feel free to hug me whenever you want to, okay, Kageyama?” Shouyou sighs, voice dropping to a whisper, “We’ve spent enough time apart as is.”

He receives a grunt in response. Shouyou breathes a laugh—Kageyama has clearly used up his limited stock of emotional energy for the day. He’ll have tonight to recharge.

Shouyou fully releases his waist, raising his arms to lightly squish Kageyama’s cheeks between his palms instead. Kageyama barks an insult at him and scrambles back, eyes wide in shock at the sudden physical affection (as though he wasn’t the one to initiate such literally a minute ago). Shouyou takes advantage of the moment and sweeps up his hand, tugging him towards the kitchen as a continuation of the apartment tour. He opens his refrigerator to show off all of his beautiful fruits, vegetables, and meat. 

“Can you cook, Kageyama?” Shouyou asks, expectant. 

“Of course I can, dumbass!” He bites back. Shouyou’s disbelief must show on his face, for Kageyama continues. “I was at home alone a lot in high school, and I had to learn to make my own food to stay healthy for volleyball.” He’s avoiding Shouyou’s gaze again. “Proper eating is even more important, now that I’m pro.”

“Oh, right...” Shouyou trails off. He honestly still doesn’t know much about Kageyama’s high school home life—other than that his primary caretaker, his grandfather, passed away in middle school, and his parents were never around when Shouyou came over. Making a mental note to prod Kageyama a little about it later, Shouyou sing-songs. “I still bet I’m a better cook than you!” Teasing Kageyama—back to their comfort zones.

Kageyama reaches for him and Shouyou stays still for once. A large hand squeezes his scalp and Shouyou remembers why he usually dodges Kageyama’s death grips, barely managing to not wince. 

“Is that a challenge, dumbass?” 

Shouyou feigns pondering this for a moment. The grip on his hair grows tighter. 

“Ow, ow, duh, of course it is!” He shouts. “Tomorrow, I’mma make you the best breakfast of your life. Just freakin’ wait!”

Still glowering, Kageyama drops his hand back to his side. “Yeah, right.” He steps to Shouyou’s side, glaring into the fridge. “I can’t even name, like, half of these produce items, though.” 

Shouyou guffaws. “That’s because I mainly learned how to cook in Rio! Or at least, that’s where all the good stuff comes from. I have to go to a special grocery store for all these.” He closes the refrigerator door, giving it a light pat once fully shut. “They’re expensive as hell, but totally worth it.”

Kageyama stares at him, incredulity clear on his face. 

“You’ll see! Tomorrow!” He yells, pushing Kageyama out of the kitchen. Kageyama grumbles but doesn’t resist.

They tour the remainder of the house, which is literally just his bedroom and bathroom. Since Shouyou only uses his bedroom for sleep, the walls are bare compared to the dining room’s. The bathroom is a little grody, as expected from a young adult man living alone, but it’s been worse; he counts it as a win when Kageyama doesn’t bring it up.

Flopping horizontally back onto the couch, Shouyou pats the space to his side. “Join me, ‘Yama-yama!”

“Why do you get to be against the back—I’m bigger than you.” 

“Ooho, Kageyama-kun, but how do you know that?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “We haven’t even done anything that would expose tha—” 

Kageyama grabs an end pillow and jumps onto the couch, smothering Shouyou before he can finish his sentence. Shouyou wiggles around, trying to break free, but Kageyama keeps his knee firmly pinned to his chest. He continues to struggle, but eventually Kageyama removes the pillow from his face, a smirk on his face. Flipping onto his side, Kageyama turns to face away from Shouyou, leaving a few inches of space between them. He tosses the pillow to the end of the couch; Shouyou pouts when it lands perfectly in place. Stupid Kageyama and his stupidly good aim. 

He turns his attention to the setter’s back, broad shoulders on display from his position. He brings his hands up and digs his thumbs into Kageyama’s traps. Flinching, Kageyama kicks Shouyou in the shin.

“Ow, you bastard! I was giving you a _free massage_. Your muscles are literally so tight right now.” 

“You surprised me, dumbass! You deserved it anyways.” 

Shouyou squawks, aggressively flopping his left arm atop Kageyama’s side. “Well, you don’t deserve my magic massages, Meany-yama.”

He lets his wrist dangle around for a bit before firmly pulling Kageyama to his front. He’s just as warm as he was earlier, and Shouyou slowly relaxes as the heat seeps into his muscles and bones. 

A minute or so later, Shouyou has become complete putty, practically melting into the couch cushions. Kageyama feels as stiff as a board, though, and Shouyou points it out.

He receives another kick to the shin, then chirps, “Honesty not violence, Kageyama-kun!”

Kageyama grumbles, and Shouyou feels the sound reverberate through his body. 

“I’ve never, like, done this before,” he grits out, shifting around on the couch.

“Done what, exactly?” Shouyou asks, genuine.

“Whatever this is, dumbass!” Kageyama yells. “Romantic stuff? Cuddling? This.” 

Shouyou hums, unsurprised. Kageyama having the bare minimal social skills, on top of having a volleyball for a brain, leaves little room for dating; the only reason Shouyou’s been with other people is because of his boundless extroversion (and libido). 

“Well, it’s not like there are rules or anything,” Shouyou starts. “You just—” he shrugs, “—do what feels nice.” He snuggles up to Kageyama, pressing their bodies closer together. Kageyama stiffens a tad before relaxing. “This is called spooning, because you fit together like spoons in a drawer. Right now, I’m the big spoon and you’re the little spoon, but we can turn over if you wanna be the big one.” 

Kageyama hesitates before shaking his head. “This is fine for now.” 

Shouyou rests his head at the back of Kageyama’s neck, the fine hairs tickling his nose. He closes his eyes and breathes in and out for a bit, keeping his focus on Kageyama’s posture. At some point tonight, he really wanted to kiss Kageyama, but after having to explain how to _cuddle_ to the setter, he feels like the slower the pace, the better (for now). Shouyou can wait—Kageyama’s comfort will always come before his desires.

Kageyama shifts around in his arms, trying to get comfortable. After a minute of sporadic shuffling, he breathes out a sigh. His next words come out so quietly that Shouyou strains to hear them.

“So, you’ve done this with other people...?” It’s supposedly a question but his tone reflects some sort of resigned acknowledgement. Shouyou sucks in a long breath, wracking his brain for an honest yet gentle answer.

“Umm, yes, a few,” he starts. “B-but they never got _serious_. It was mostly... sexual?” His skin is tingling in that bad sort of way again. He shouldn’t have expected an eloquent response from himself.

Kageyama dips his head to his chest. Shouyou wants to apologize, but what for? He can’t avoid the truth if they’re gonna be together now.

“I guess I just don’t get it,” Kageyama says.

When he doesn’t continue, Shouyou prods, squeezing him tighter, “Get what?”

A frustrated noise rumbles in his throat. “I just don’t really get the _urge_ to do anything like that. I never have.” He pauses for a moment, before muttering, “Except with you.”

Shouyou’s breath hitches, tenderness welling up in his body. But he knows what really needs to be cleared up here. Biting the bullet, and his bottom lip, Shouyou asks, “Are you... jealous? Or mad?” 

Kageyama sighs and doesn’t respond for a moment. Shouyou feels like he’s about to wither into dust when he finally replies, “No, I’m not... jealous or mad. Remember, I learned the hard way that I can’t control everything.” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. Shouyou’s heart sinks. 

“Kageyama...” he presses his nose into the nape of the setter’s neck again.

“I guess I’m just kind of sad,” Kageyama continues. Shouyou can’t see his face, but he can feel the deep furrow of his brow in his voice. “That it wasn’t me until now.”

He wants to be honest and say “Just know that, while I was with a lot of those people, I was really thinking about you” or “It has been you, Kageyama, for years.” But the words sound disingenuous on his tongue despite their truth. Nothing will take away the pain of knowing that his yearning was unheard, unreciprocated. 

Shouyou shoves a knee between Kageyama’s thighs as he stretches his hand across his chest, maxing out their points of contact. He can’t take away that pain, but he can let Kageyama know that it’s in the past—he’s here now. 

“I know you said you wanted to hear more about it, but I can... not talk about Rio, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Kageyama turns awkwardly towards Shouyou, flicking his forehead before settling back down. A dull pain radiates from the spot, and Shouyou pouts. 

“No, dumbass,” Kageyama says, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I do want to hear about it. Just—maybe avoid talking about... you know what, for now.”

Shouyou nods, squeezing Kageyama tight. He notes that he’s a lot less stiff than before—maybe relieved now that the topic’s been addressed and tied up.

With Kageyama mostly relaxed in his arms, Shouyou begins talking. He starts with his beach volleyball training—which began in their third year but ramped up significantly post graduation. His coach at home—Coach Takahashi—compared to his coach in Rio—Kato Lucio. The difference between playing on a fake sand court versus a genuine beach; how the sea breeze majorly affected the trajectory of the ball on your serves, sets, bumps, everything. 

By the time he gets to the non-volleyball aspects of his Brazil life, such as Pedro or his jobs, Kageyama has deflated like a balloon, malleable as clay. Shouyou stops his ramble and peeks over Kageyama’s shoulder at his face. His eyes are closed, but on his next inhale, his long lashes flutter open, revealing those mesmerizing, blue eyes. Shouyou continues to stare shamelessly.

“Why’d you stop?” Kageyama stiffens back up a bit unwittingly, but Shouyou can feel him trying to relax again. Before he can reply, Kageyama yawns, teeth fully on display like a cat’s. 

Shouyou wiggles his eyebrows. “Tired, Kageyama-kunnn?” Truthfully, Shouyou didn’t realize how tired he himself was until this moment, stifling a yawn so as to not alert Kageyama. He glances over to the clock on the wall—10:30pm. Way past his bedtime, yikes.

“Shut up dumbass, I’m fine.”

“Oookay,” Shouyou drawls. “Loser falls asleep first.” Since they’re both tired, this is a much more even playing field than before.

“You’re on,” Kageyama grunts.

They should really move to the bedroom before they both pass out. He says such to Kageyama before rolling over him, plopping heavily onto the ground. Kageyama scrunches his nose at his shenanigans but doesn’t complain, moving to stand as well. 

Shouyou rattles through the drawers in his bedroom for something large enough to fit Kageyama—despite his earlier declaration, they’re not at the “sleeping naked in bed together” point in their relationship. (Patience, Shouyou, patience, he thinks to himself, cheeks reddening.)

He tosses Kageyama his largest, already oversized sleep shirt and a pair of clean boxers. Kageyama slips into the shirt then holds the boxers at arms-length, appraising. He looks to Shouyou, who’s fully changed into fresh clothes. 

“I’m not sure how I feel about wearing someone else’s boxers.”

Shouyou pouts at him. “You really wanna sleep in gross boxers? Dirty-yama.”

Snorting, Kageyama begrudgingly takes off his pants and slips into the new underwear. Shouyou turns away for the latter part—they might be dating now, but he respects other’s privacy!

He skips over to the bathroom, pulling out a clean, spare toothbrush for Kageyama. During their respective brushings, Shouyou hip checks Kageyama halfway through on instinct, leading to an all out shoving war that nearly gives Shouyou a black eye.

They return to the bedroom, flopping back onto the bed into the same positions—Shouyou’s arm around Kageyama’s waist, their legs intertwined. Refreshed from their freshening up, they prattle back and forth for a bit about anything and nothing.

(“Would you eat a potato if it had actual eyes?”

“What the hell.”)

Shouyou eventually ends up talking more about Brazil—about Pedro and Heitor and Nice, about his bike-driven excursions all throughout the city, about the sunrises over the ocean.

He trails off mid-sentence, slipping into unconsciousness. His mind dawdles in the liminal zone between wakefulness and sleep for two, ten minutes—he doesn’t know. Then the lightest snore leaves Kageyama, bringing Shouyou back to earth.

Shouyou smiles, closed-lipped but genuine. He tightens his arm around Kageyama, drawing them a fraction closer together.

“Both at 1,100 now, it’s a tie,” Shouyou declares quietly. 

He lays a featherlight kiss to the back of Kageyama’s head before drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i broke my own heart writing this chapter T____T


	5. tie breaker (+1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note: things get a little SAUCY in hinata’s brain for a bit (mostly him reflecting on The Past because i am kinda a sucker for hinata being some real hot stuff in Rio) so if you’re not comfy w that stop reading at “The intimacy reminds him of their conversation from yesterday” and start again at “Shouyou was also an affectionate partner...” it’s only three paragraphs, but just lettin’ ya know!

Shouyou wakes up as the first rays of sun filter through the window.

Crap, he forgot to close his blinds last night. Usually, Shouyou rises with the sun; his morning routine consists of sunrise meditation, a yoga session, and a healthy, hearty breakfast all before 7 am. But after going to bed so late last night, on top of the physical and emotional exhaustion from yesterday’s activities, he has no inclination to get out of bed soon. The solid, warm weight pressed to his front isn’t helping his case either. 

Since he has developed using the sun as his natural alarm clock, any light in his eyes will keep him from resting again. Letting out a soft huff, he disentangles himself from Kageyama and rolls off the bed towards the windows. A small yawn escapes him as he’s twisting the pole to the blinds shut. With a final _swish_ of the curtain, the piercing rays of light evaporate from his room, leaving behind only a soft glow that fails to pierce the eyelids.

Kageyama has shifted onto his other side, facing away from the window. Shouyou walks around the bed and tucks himself under the comforter. He sidles up as close to Kageyama as he can without touching him, not wanting to disturb the man. Kageyama’s arms are tucked against his chest, fists stacked in tandem beneath his chin. As Shouyou watches him breathe slowly, the hands relax slightly with each inhale and exhale. His brow, as well, softens as he settles back into a deeper rest.

Shouyou’s eyelids are heavy, but he forces them open for just a little longer as he stares at Kageyama in his bed. He observes his whole face, lingering on each feature. The setter’s thin but defined eyebrows. His long eyelashes; the shallow curve of his nose. Strong, high cheekbones. A narrow upper lip, a plump bottom one. Shouyou wants to kiss him everywhere so badly, it hurts. 

But for now, he closes his eyes and lets the bubbles of joy well up and pop within his chest. A small smile stretches across his lips, excited for when he wakes again—next time, hopefully, Kageyama will be fully awake too. He lets his breaths sink him into a deeper and deeper place—bones so heavy they practically fold into the mattress—until he is asleep once more.

***

Shouyou wakes the second time when a solid mass collides with his knee. He jumps awake, bleary-eyed but on alert, scanning the bed for whatever pulled him from his dreams. Looking down, Kageyama’s knee now rests only a hair from his—the clear culprit. Kageyama himself seems to still be passed out, face pressed half into the pillow, a large pool of drool sitting beneath his open mouth. How cute, Shoyou thinks, only half ironically; he definitely drools just as badly, so he can’t get uppity at Kageyama for it. 

He turns over and checks the clock on his bedside table. 7:30. It’s the latest he’s slept in since returning to Japan. They also went to bed at around 11 or 11:30-ish—eight or more hours is the perfect amount to start the day. 

In an attempt to wake Kageyama, Shouyou gets up in his space, wiggling himself between the setter’s arms and legs and throwing his own arm over Kageyama’s torso for the fun of it. He breathes in deeply and Kageyama’s scent consumes his senses. The intimacy reminds him of their conversation from yesterday.

Shouyou certainly made his way around in Rio—who could resist, being around so many attractive athletes? His libido only kick started late in their third year, and, being so preoccupied with beach volleyball training and learning Portuguese during his gap year, he didn’t have the opportunity to really explore his sexual urges until Brazil.

Realizing he liked Kageyama made things _worse_ actually: from then on, every other time he thought of the setter got his blood hot and his skin buzzing—after a few weeks of restless nights, he had no choice but to do something about it. Nearly daily training and his two jobs didn’t leave him much time for play, but every weekend, he’d found himself flirting with a cute guy or girl after the day’s activities, which very often led to some escapades under the sheets. 

He would sleep with some people multiple days, weeks in a row, but nothing ever lasted long-term. It’s not that he was never, to some degree, emotionally attracted to his partners—they just never made him feel the way he did about Kageyama. He did prefer those longer term partners to one night stands, though; he liked to learn their weak points—what made them gasp in pleasure, convulse in bliss—so he could make them feel even better the next time. Especially when he was with men, his mind often tried to manipulate his senses—making their groans a little deeper, their hands a little bigger—to fit the object of affection primarily driving his lust in the first place. 

Shouyou was also an affectionate partner—he didn’t follow the “rules” or whatever of hooking up. He always asked first, of course, but he liked kissing and cuddling—just the generally more loving, rather than erotic, touches. Unfortunately, due to Rio’s extremely hot climate and his building’s lack of AC, he couldn’t snuggle or hug someone else for long without feeling like his skin was melting, but he snuck it in wherever possible.

None of that, though, prepared him for the real feeling of Kageyama in his arms. 

Firstly, his scent is overwhelming: the combination of fresh laundry detergent, spicy shampoo, and that splash of something distinct to Kageyama that Shouyou had come to know so well over their high school years. It definitely doesn’t help that Shouyou has pressed his face fully into the front of his chest, but even the room itself carries traces of Kageyama’s scent. Shouyou’s sure that the pillow he’s sleeping on will smell of Kageyama for days after his departure. 

Moreover, there’s the satisfaction of finally being able to touch him with no inhibitions, knowing that this is what they both want. Shouyou has concocted probably thousands of fantasies—varying in rating—with Kageyama involved: what his hands would feel like in Shouyou’s, how their bodies would feel pressed together, what Kageyama’s voice sounds like after making love. There are obviously still some left to be fulfilled, but none of them have held a penny to the real touches and sights and sounds. 

Shouyou is so lost in thought that he starts slightly when a hand tentatively touches the crown of his head. He glances up and Kageyama is looking down at him blearily, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The hand runs its way through Shouyou’s trimmed locks, causing Shouyou to hum in delight. Kageyama instantly stills his movements, entire body tensing. Shouyou makes a small noise of dismay and brings his hand on top of Kageyama’s, forcing it back into action. 

Kageyama continues his ministrations slowly, as though trying to commit the texture of Shouyou’s hair to memory.

Shouyou closes his eyes, his neck craning to press further into Kageyama’s palm. “Why’d you stop?” 

Kageyama hesitates before replying, voice coarse with sleep. “It felt like a dream, and when it wasn’t...” He pauses, furrowing his brow in thought. “It was surprising.”

Shouyou frowns, dissatisfied with the vague, very-Kageyama-esque answer. “Surprising like what? Good surprising? Bad surprising?”

“Don’t make that face, dumbass,” Kageyama scowls, combing his fingers deeper into Shouyou’s scalp. His face twists in thought again. “Good-surprising. But also just... surprising...” He pauses once more and bows his head forward, bangs falling and covering his eyes. “It just seems surreal, after all this time..."

Shouyou thinks back to their conversation, about how Kageyama realized his feelings in third year. They’re in their early twenties now. That means that Kageyama has liked him for at least four, if not five, years.

He remembers Kageyama’s words last night, tongue loose with liquor. 

_“Maybe I was waiting for you.”_

His eyes fly open at the realization.

Shouyou has only been dealing with this elixir of feelings and yearning and desire for about a year and a half now. He thinks about the many restless evenings, the aching longing in his heart while abroad. All the ways he wanted Kageyama during that time. The only reason he didn’t immediately lead with his heart following his return to Japan were his vital, real life obligations—the amount of diligence and discipline he absolutely _had_ to execute in order to make it as a starter on the Black Jackals. 

His heart now aches for Kageyama, for all those years he spent believing that Shouyou may never want him back, yet waiting patiently anyways. 

“How did you manage for so long?” 

Kageyama’s breath stutters before he replies, “There was never anyone who could compete with you, HInata.”

Shouyou’s heart skips a beat, then drastically picks up pace—unused to the soft honesty spilling from Kageyama’s lips. He’s certain that Kageyama can feel the thrumming against his chest. God, he wants to kiss him _so_ badly. He instinctively curls into Kageyama’s chest, ears burning. Quickly, though, Shouyou changes his course of action, staring back up to look Kageyama in the eye again. But Kageyama has turned away, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

His heart sinks for a moment before he remembers who the man is before him. Kageyama Tobio. Professional volleyball player, 21 years old. Absolute King of Emotional Constipation. Kageyama half the time can’t even identify his emotions, nonetheless express them. For him, vulnerability is a foregin landscape. 

He’s nervous, Shouyou realizes.

He places a hand over Kageyama’s heart. It confirms his suspicions. 

Shouyou slides his hand up to cup Kageyama's jaw. His breath stutters again but he otherwise remains the same, still facing away. Warmth leeches into Shouyou’s palm. 

Shouyou tilts Kageyama’s head back towards him, pressure light so that Kageyama may resist if he wishes. In the end, though, blue eyes meet his. They reflect the morning sun, as beautiful as a gemstone in the light. He pushes the bangs out of Kageyama’s eyes, touch delicate—revenant—dragging the hair behind his ears. 

“You are very special to me,” Shouyou says, reciprocating Kageyama’s authenticity with his own. 

Kageyama brings his hand up to rest against Shouyou’s on his face. He nods, almost imperceptible if not for Shouyou’s palm on his skin. 

Then, before Shouyou can ask the burning question in his mind ( _Can I kiss you? Can I kiss you? Can I kiss you, please?)_ , Kageyama’s stomach growls, breaking the tender silence. Whether it’s an excuse to leave the charged moment or because he really only thinks with his stomach, Kageyama releases his hand and rolls out of bed. Shouyou pouts at the loss of contact.

Kageyama looks back, frowning. "Why are you making that face, dumbass? I'm hungry."

The latter it is then, Shouyou grumbles to himself as he throws back the covers, stepping out of bed to follow him out the door. The volleyball in Kageyama’s brain sure does not know how to read the room! 

Shouyou's heart, however, flips a bit at the thought. Part of what makes Kageyama so endearing (and an asshole) is his oblivious nature—with respect to anything that isn’t volleyball, that is. 

They wearily pad into the kitchen. Shouyou turns on the burner below the tea kettle. He typically avoids caffeine, mainly because after his usual morning routine, he doesn’t need it, but also just as a health thing. But right now, nothing sounds better than a cup of green tea. He asks Kageyama if he’d like some as well, and the setter nods as he shuffles through the Shouyou’s cabinets. 

Shouyou peaks his head over Kageyama’s shoulder. “Whatcha looking for?” 

“Don’t jump me like that, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbles, pulling out a bag of rice and handing it to Shouyou. “We’re deciding who can cook the best breakfast, remember?”

Shouyou plops the bag of rice on the counter before sliding back over to Kageyama. He leans over his shoulder again and says, “Ehe. Be prepared to lose.” 

Kageyama shoves his face away, squishing his cheek into his eye. “Like I’ll let that happen.” 

Shouyou leans into Kageyama’s palm, shoving his face closer to his shoulder. Kageyama increases the pressure against his cheek, forcing him back. Soon enough, they’re in an all out clash, Kageyama’s outstretched arm versus Shouyou’s determined face. Shouyou widens his stance, giving him more leverage to resist Kageyama’s unrelenting force. Damn those setter arms. 

They continue their opposite tug-of-war, but they’re ultimately grid locked. Shouyou’s neck begins to feel the strain of its awkward angle.

A few moments later, Kageyama glances over his shoulder and smirks. Before Shouyou can process the strange action, the pressure vanishes, and he’s stumbling face-first towards the ground. Thankfully, years of volleyball training have given him impeccable balance, and he takes a few long strides forward to stabilize himself. Glaring, he whirls around on Kageyama, who’s giving him the biggest shit-eating grin. 

“Bastard! What if I’d smashed my face into a counter or something!” 

“That’s why I checked behind me, idiot. You’re fine.” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Shouyou sticks his tongue out at Kageyama. He hears a snort, then feels the side of a hand lightly cuff him on the head. By the time he’s opened his eyes again, Kageyama has turned back to inspecting the contents of his kitchen.

Shouyou wrinkles his nose before turning towards the refrigerator, yanking open the door. He scrounges around the shelves and begins to stockpile ingredients in his arms. In order to have a leg up on Kageyama, he’s decided to make something he’s probably never had before—the classic Brazillian dish of _farofa_. Technically, it’s not a breakfast food, but his opponent doesn’t know that. And the rich, nutty dish is sure to win over setter’s frigid heart. Smirking to himself, Shouyou moves towards the counter. 

“Do you have rice pre-made or should we put on a pot?” Kageyama asks, switching places with Shouyou before the refrigerator. 

“If we’re both using rice, let’s start a new pot,” Shouyou says as he dumps his array of food on the countertop. Sticky white rice might be a weird combination with the _farofa,_ but it’s just a supplement so he supposes it’ll be fine. 

As he ponders the difference between sticky versus non-sticky rice, the tea kettle starts steaming, a small _piiiiii_ ringing out. He prepares their green tea then sets it to the side to steep. In the meantime, he pulls out the rice cooker and washes the rice. The grains against the bowl and his hand make a satisfying _swish_ ing sound. Kageyama swears quietly behind him as dishes clatter to the floor. Shouyou stays in his own lane, praying that Kageyama didn’t break anything expensive.

They prepare their meals in silence for a bit, lost in their respective activities. Shouyou bops his head to the time of his knife striking the counter as he chops up the herbs and vegetables. Once he can no longer avoid cutting up the onion, he braces himself and slices away at it as quickly as possible, uneven chunks flying around the cutting board. His eyes only mildly sting by the time he’s done, and he counts it as a win.

He joins Kageyama by the stove and peaks into his pot. Miso soup, by the looks of it. A classic, but not as good as Shouyou’s recipe. A smirk flashes across his face as he reaches for their tea cups. He hands one to Kageyama, who grunts in place of a thank you. As he brings the tea to his lips, Shouyou notes that the cup looks impossibly small in his hands. 

Shouyou alternates between attending to his meal and sipping his tea. To his left, Kageyama is preparing two small salmon fillets. The air smells of butter and onion and _dashi_. His pan crackles with fervor. 

Heart squeezing, Shouyou revels in the domesticity of the moment. A buzzing thrums to life under his skin, sending waves of warmth coursing through his body. On top of the hot tea, Shouyou feels like his body has been kissed by the sun.

Is this really his, indefinitely? He and Kageyama just started dating yesterday; it hasn’t even been 24 hours. Shouyou’s heart beats faster at the thought. Objectively, they’re both extremely busy and constantly travelling thanks to their job. But that doesn’t mean that these moments will be few and far between—based on their track record of communicating over the years, across oceans, Shouyou knows they’ll find time for each other, just as they always have. 

He opens his eyes—when did they even close?—once his smile wanes a bit and is no longer consuming his whole face. They meet Kageyama’s across the room, who quickly jerks his head back towards the stove, face flushed. This provides Shouyou a perfect teasing opportunity, but for once, he doesn’t take it, still basking in the moment.

Finishing his tea, Shouyou sets the empty cup down and adds cassava flour to the pan. Kageyama takes the salmon off the skillet and places the fillets on two small plates atop the counter. Shouyou sets another pan on the stove to warm up some leftover _feijão_. Pointing to a cabinet across the room, Shouyou lets Kageyama know where a glass cover is, as to keep the salmon warm while Shouyou finishes cooking.

The rice cooker clicks off right when the cassava flour appears evenly browned. Kageyama scoops some rice onto their plates, topping the mounds off with seasoning. Cheater, thinks Shouyou. Nori and salt are a foolproof way to make anything taste good. He inhales deeply over his _farofa_ to reassure himself of his victory. 

Yeah, definitely gonna win.

Shouyou’s meal requires a full plate, so he grabs two from the cabinet. He piles the _farofa_ on one half and the beans and rice on the other. Kageyama finds his rice and miso soup bowls, and soon enough, they’re at the dining room table, side by side, chopsticks in hand. 

Kageyama, previously glaring down at the food, looks up at Shouyou, brows pinched. “Wait, aren’t we doing this wrong? Aren’t other people supposed to be judging our cooking, not us ourselves?”

Shouyou thinks about his limited knowledge of televised cooking competitions. It is true that all contestants are judged by non-contestants.

“Well, it doesn’t matter in our case because I won’t even have to make you admit mine is better!” He cheers in response.

Kageyama elbows him, then goes back to staring at the food. He rolls over a chunk of the _farofa_ with his chopsticks.

“Do I eat this with the rice and beans?”

Shouyou hums.“You can eat it either way, separate or together! I like it all together though because the rice really balances out the richness of the _farofa_.” He uses his chopsticks to point at the cassava-based stir fry. 

Kageyama says the Brazillian word aloud quietly. Shouyou chuckles to himself—he quite awfully butchered that pronunciation. 

“Shall we dig in?” He lilts. 

“Yeah,” Kageyama replies. “Let’s eat mine first, then yours.”

“Okay!” Shouyou beams, giving him a thumbs up. 

Kageyama huffs, focusing back on the plate before him. 

Shouyou claps his hands together loudly. “Thank you for the food!” 

“Thank you for the food,” Kageyama grunts. 

Shouyou starts with Kageyama’s salmon. Technically, the setter is cheating because Shouyou’s the one who soaked the fillets in _shio koji_ a few days ago. But cooking salmon to the correct moisture and consistency is difficult, too, so that’s what he’ll be judging. He takes a bite from the middle and it instantly falls apart in his mouth.

“Mmm, Kageyama, this is actually really good!” He keens, shoving more into his mouth. 

Kageyama is awed by his own cooking, it seems, his eyebrows lifted to the sky upon his first bite of the fish. He quickly schools his expression. “It is.” 

Shouyou flits between dishes until he’s eaten his share. The miso soup is solid, as well, if not leaning a little too much on the _dashi_ side _._

Gobbling the remainder of his rice down, Shouyou says, “Dish was pretty ghood, Kag’yama!!” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot,” he replies. He sips the rest of his remaining miso soup before continuing, “Only ‘pretty good’?”

Shouyou giggles, dabbing his lips with a napkin. “Well, it was good, but compared to mine, it’s only pretty good.” 

“You haven’t even tried yours yet!” Kageyama snaps, causing Shouyou to laugh harder.

“Yeah, but I made this all the time in Brazil; I know how it tastes!”

Kageyama gives him a disbelieving look. He glares back, pouting. “Just you wait, ‘Yama-yama.” He grins once more. “You may be King of the Court but I am King of the Cooks!”

Disgust clouds Kageyama’s features. “Shut up. That was so bad.”

Shouyou dissolves into giggles again. “No, it wasn’t! And stop stalling on trying my food! I know you’re just thinking about how you’re gonna lose, Kageyama-kun, but please. We’re adults now. Try to accept it with grace.”

Chopsticks come flying towards his face and Shouyou ducks around them. “Sore loser!” He taunts, and dodges Kageyama’s second swipe. “Stop antagonizing me!”

“Sorry that you’re so stupid I wanna poke your eyes out!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

Before Kageyama can reply, Shouyou scoops a large heap of _farofa_ and rice in his mouth. Bacon and herbs and butter explode across his tongue, along with a faint nutty flavor. He almost moans at the combination.

“ _Gwahhh_ , so good!!” He glances sideways at Kageyama, eyebrows waggling. “Your turn, _Ousama_ -yama.”

Kageyama frowns at him but finally gathers a bite on his chopsticks. He gives Shouyou one more unimpressed look before bringing it up to his lips. Shouyou watches intensely as Kageyama chews the _farofa_ , carefully observing his expression. The pinch of his eyebrows remains as he swallows. After sitting there a few moments, his eyes close. 

Shouyou watches, confused. Kageyama inhales deeply then exhales sharply. 

Shouyou’s about to throw hands in defense of his cooking when Kageyama finally speaks.

“What the fuck.”

Confused once more, Shouyou cocks his head. “What?”

“This is,” Kagyeama finally turns to face Shouyou, eyes blazing. “Really fucking good!”

“T-thank you?” Shouyou stutters. Kageyama’s tone versus his words really did not match up.

Kageyama shoves more into his mouth, chewing rapidly. Still baffled, Shouyou stares dumbly as the setter wolfs down the _farofa_.

It’s a minute before Shouyou realizes—

“I won!”

Kageyama grunts at him through a bite of food. Once he swallows, he growls, “Says who?!”

“Says your goddamn empty plate, bastard!” He picks up the dish and shoves it into Kageyama’s face. “Not a single speck left!”

Kageyama yanks the plate from his hands, setting it back down on the table. Scrunching his nose, he begrudgingly concedes, “...That’s true.”

Shouyou stretches his arms to the sky in glee as a smile consumes his features. “That’s 1,101 vs 1,100! I’m back in the lead!” 

Kageyama scowls at him. “When did you hit 1,100, dumbass?” 

“Last night, you went to sleep first, Bakageyama!” He drops his arms, but his grin remains. 

Kageyama scowl deepens, eyebrows nearly pulled to his nose. 

“Oh man, when’s the last time I was ahead of you! It’s been like, two months or something,” Shouyou muses. “Yeah, it all started going downhill when I lost the push up challenge. Which I blame Bokuto for—he wouldn’t stop making me laugh while we were on the call!”

Shouyou deliberation bubble pops, and he whirls on Kageyama. “But that doesn’t matter! Because I’m winning now!”

Normally when Shouyou rubs this kind of thing in Kageyama’s face, he receives a scowl and an (attempted) punch to the gut in response. But right now, Kageyama is looking at him completely stoic, his eyes unreadable as well. Adrenaline shoots through Shouyou’s body—something’s off.

A second later, Kageyama lunges at him, hands reaching. Shouyou springs out of his seat and sprints towards the coffee table. 

Kageyama jolts up as well, knocking his chair over and barking, “Get back over here, dumbass!” 

“No, you’re gonna murder me!” Shouyou shrieks as he jumps over the couch, ducking behind it. 

Kageyama zones in on his right, so Shouyou shuffles left. They encircle the couch, Shouyou moving in whatever direction Kageyama isn’t. At the foot of the couch, Kageyama stops his scrambling and makes a constipated face. 

Shouyou whoops from the opposite end, “ _Ousama_ -yama won’t slay me today!”

In an instant, Kageyama is charging his way across the couch. The cushions cause him to sink down, almost throwing him off balance, but he uses the fumble to launch himself forward. He tackles Shouyou around the neck, and the additional weight knocks him off his feet. Shouyou plants his foot behind him and pivots to compensate. 

Piercing, blue-gray eyes consume Shouyou’s field of view. Shouyou feels himself toppling backwards as he gazes back. He’s never observed Kageyama this close up before, he thinks. He’s never noticed the flecks of navy that line his pupils. 

His back dips into the couch and Kageyama topples on top of him, knocking him breathless. Shouyou begins to squirm incessantly—Kageyama is literally on the verge of ending his life!—in attempts to slip onto the floor. But Kageyama has him firmly pinned, arms to his side, chest under chest. 

“Stop—wiggling,” Kageyama yells. “For one damn second, goddammit!”

Shouyou doesn’t know why—he _never_ listens to Kageyama when he doesn’t want to—but his body freezes at those words. Just for a second, like Kageyama asked, but in that second, Kageyama’s face surges forward. Shouyou closes his eyes and prays to whatever higher power that his skull comes out minimally scathed from this interaction, but he’s been headbutted by Kageyama before and, damn, the man has the brain of a volleyball but a skull of steel.

But instead of a _bonk_ against his skull, Kageyama’s lips crash against his.

Shouyou’s breath hitches in his throat. 

Their lips are stacked directly on top of another, and Kageyama’s nose squishes awkwardly against Shouyou’s. It’s too firm as well—Shouyou can feel Kageyama’s teeth through their lips. The smell of bacon and garlic and onions assails his nostrils. 

It’s an awful kiss—probably the worst he’s ever had—and Shouyou feels like he’s soaring. 

They’ve been pressed together awkwardly for at least ten seconds at this point, but Shouyou doesn’t care. All rational thoughts about the intricacies of smooching have long flown out the window, and his brain is instead chanting _Kageyama is kissing me, Kageyama is kissing me, Kageyama is kissing me._

Eventually, though, Kageyama pulls back, gasping for air. Shouyou inhales deeply as well, not realizing that the lightheadedness was coming about thanks to oxygen loss rather than adrenaline. His body, a minute ago white with terror, feels like its burning, fire spreading through every nook and cranny, every peak and valley. His cheeks and neck and ears, in particular, are alight with flame.

Kageyama isn’t faring much better, though. He’s panting through his mouth, warm breath hitting Shouyou’s face with each exhale. Shouyou can feel his heart jackrabbiting in his ribcage, and the blue of his eyes is even more striking against flushed cheeks.

Soon, though, Kageyama comes back to himself, breath steadied. He smirks wildly, teeth flashing, before saying: 

“Didn’t keep that lead for long, did you, dumbass?” 

Reality comes crashing into Shouyou, sparkly-eyed wonder replaced with a squawk of absolute betrayal. Kageyama breaks out into a fit of laughter as Shouyou scrambles out from under him to the other side of the couch. Clutching his stomach, Kageyama drags himself up to sitting. Shouyou, still feeling wholeheartedly swindled—Sneaky-yama!—shoves Kageyama further away from him with his feet. Kageyama just guffaws harder.

Shouyou kicks him again, lighter this time. “Asshole! How dare you kiss me first when I was thinking about kissing you literally all last night and this morning!” Shouyou clenches his fists. “But you seemed like you wanted to take it slow, so I resisted! I exercised _self control_ for you and this is how you repay me. In treachery.”

Kageyama finally calms down, but he breathes out an amused huff before responding, “Well, maybe you should’ve assumed otherwise, dumbass.”

“I was looking out for you and your fledgling romantic heart, Bakageyama!”

“How the fuck did you think that I’ve liked you for five and a half damn years and didn’t want to kiss you!? You’re the moron!”

A blush reignites under Shouyou’s skin. 

Kageyama continues, mumbling, “I wanted to kiss you last night, too...”

Shouyou perks up. “What stopped you?”

The setter’s eyes narrow, and he turns his head away. “How do you even initiate something like that? I didn’t know how.”

“You literally just kissed me first, why’re you asking that question?!”

Kageyama’s head snaps back towards Shouyou. “That’s just because I didn’t want you to be in the lead! Instinct just took over!”

Shouyou snorts at his socially inept, competitive boyfriend. Then, he leaps into Kageyama’s lap, pinning the setter between his arms against the backrest. 

“Well, I call for a rematch!” Shouyou declares loudly.

Kageyama winces at the noise, shoving him down and away until Shouyou’s sitting firmly his lap. “What do you mean—rematch?”

Shouyou grins. “This round should be determined by the best kiss, not the first!”

Kageyama frowns at him. “So it was that bad, huh?” He’s worrying his bottom lip. 

Shouyou sputters, quickly amending his words, “No, no, no, it wasn’t bad!” Kageyama glares at him, disbelieving. 

“Okay, fine, it wasn’t the best,” Shouyou admits. He brings his hands to cup Kageyama’s cheeks. “But because it was with you, it was really the bestest.”

Kageyama sits there, stunned, as a blush rises on his cheeks, warming Shouyou’s hands. Then he sputters, shoving Shouyou away, “You can’t just say shit like that, dumbass!”

Undeterred, Shouyou latches onto his face with even greater ferocity. “Yes, I can, because it’s true!”

Kageyama grumbles, dropping his hands to rest atop Shouyou’s thighs. The pressure causes Shouyou’s skin to tingle. 

“Whatever,” Kageyama grunts. “I still win, though.”

Shouyou huffs, “Okay, fine.” He squishes Kageyama’s cheeks a little harder before dropping an arm to his side. A moment later, his eyes light up and he continues, “Buuut....” He moves his thumb to rest lightly against Kageyama’s lips. “Can I kiss you again anyways?” The thumb strokes languidly across the seam of Kageyama’s bottom lip. Shouyou feels him shiver.

“Yeah.” Kageyama’s voice is hoarse but soft. 

Shouyou cups his face, tilting it slightly to the right, and kisses Kageyama for the second time. He slots his lips between Kageyama’s lower one, and presses forward slightly. Kageyama’s breath hitches when Shouyou runs his tongue along the seam, encouraging. His lips part effortlessly, but instead of invading Kageyama’s mouth with his tongue, Shouyou nibbles his lip between his teeth. Kageyama openly gasps at the sensation, his arms tightening around Shouyou’s thighs. 

Emboldened by his reaction, Shouyou bites down—not hard, not soft—and pulls back slightly. Kageyama groans in a way that Shouyou knows will pervade his dreams for nights to come. Shouyou releases his lip, dragging his teeth across the flesh, then dives back in, showering Kageyama’s lips with slow kisses.

With one last bite, Shouyou pulls off, opening his eyes. Kageyama’s open as well, but his lids are heavy, eyes unfocused. A tingle runs up Shouyou’s spine.

He shoots the setter a lazy grin. “So, if you’d taken up my rematch, I would’ve won, right?”

Instantly provoked, Kageyama snaps back to the land of the living. “You had time to plan your kiss, idiot.” He retaliates. “I literally had to jump on you to get you near me; of course I couldn’t think about next steps.”

“Cuz I thought you were gonna murder me!” Shouyou retorts. Then he blinks, realizing the deflection.“So, you’re agreeing with me, then?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. Pulling Shouyou towards him, he leans in, averting the question once more. Shouyou doesn’t mind, for once.

As they’re about to kiss once more, Kageyama halts, backing up just the slightest. Shouyou opens his eyes, questioning, and they meet Kageyama’s knit brow. A shaky breath leaves the setter’s lips. 

Shouyou pulls back and Kageyama opens his eyes. Even though he tries to hide it, Shouyou can see the worry in his gaze. He smooths his thumbs over Kageyama’s brow until it relaxes. Kageyama breathes out again, more steady this time. 

“Sorry,” Kageyama mumbles. “It’s just—” He looks down at his trembling hands atop Shouyou’s thighs. “A lot to take in.”

Shouyou presses their foreheads together and nods. “I never thought I’d say this but,” he chuckles. “Go at your own pace, Kageyama, and I’ll follow. I was just teasing earlier, it’s not really a competition.”

Kageyama frowns in a contemplative sort of way. He takes a few more breaths before opening his eyes, gazing up at Shouyou. A new resolve shines within them, and Shouyou grins before swooping down.

As their lips meet for the third time, Shouyou thinks about all that’s come together to lead him to this very moment:

His naive declaration on the stairs of a gymnasium; Kageyama’s genuine response to it. A bond that came flying like a volleyball to the face—unexpected, a bit painful, but ultimately inevitable. The same bond, built on trust and their love of the sport, blooming from concrete into forest. Separation—10,000 miles—and the realization that came with it. Patience, diligence, hard work, and longing. His promise, fulfilled—seven and a half years later.

Leaning deeper into the kiss, Shouyou can’t help but smile. Because in the end, he’s right: this is not a competition. And if it were, then they’ve both won, being right here, right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, this entire fic: forces kageyama into situation where he has to vocalize his feelings, forces kageyama into situation where he has to vocalize his feelings, forces kageyama into situation where he has to vocalize his feelings, forces kageyama into situation where he has to vocalize his
> 
> so that’s it folks, my kagehina manifesto!
> 
> thank you to [cupcake](https://twitter.com/dayoldcupcake) for betaing!!! <3
> 
> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rinpanna) for more kghn/manga spoilers brain rot
> 
> reminder to check out the [kagehina big bang](https://twitter.com/kagehinabigbang) if you are so inclined ;) sign ups for writers close on aug 14 + for writers close on aug 21; pinch hitter apps are open till november tho!!


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